


his eye and my i

by daisuga



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: "longing" we say because desire is full of endless distance and all of this is that distance, But also, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Making Up, a lot of introspective things here, all of which i cannot possibly tag well, touch is a sacred language and your affection is second nature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28914993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisuga/pseuds/daisuga
Summary: I'm a fool who only receives,Hansol wrote inAll My Love. In Korean, the title wasBarely.My heart won't change, it's only for you,Seungkwan wrote inBarely. In English, the title wasAll My Love.What are you scared of?
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon
Comments: 17
Kudos: 184





	his eye and my i

**Author's Note:**

> thank you, to my soulmate, for proofreading.  
> this is just an excuse for me to write pretty words, and finger traps as a metaphor :)
> 
> title comes from:
>
>>   
> “Her eye and my 'I':  
> Her gazing  
> Creates me.
>> 
>> His voice and my  
> Ear–I’m seized  
> By hearing.”
>> 
>> \-- _Gregory Orr_ , “Her eye and my ‘I’”, **How Beautiful the Beloved**  
> 

and he: (and this was almost unbearable)

he saw me see him,

and I saw him see me.

\-- _Maria Howe_ , **The Affliction**

* * *

Jihoon has been teaching him how to play the piano.

It's nothing big, and it's just a small thing they do now and then when they have time. Between Jihoon feeling murderous and sleep-deprived and Seungkwan fussing over his personal schedules, there is the concert preparation and comeback planning. Not a lot of free time left to spend, and not a lot of brain capacity left to learn.

But he has been learning. It's silly.

If Seungkwan has to find a reason to trace it back to, maybe it was when Hansol played a song that had a piano in it and said _I like this one_. And Seungkwan wanted to do something nice for him, so he wanted to learn the song. That was - four comebacks ago. Roughly a year.

It's silly.

Seungkwan knows the song now. He can play it at the right tempo and sing along to it in a way that puts Jihoon to sleep. He knows the lyrics by heart and no longer presses on the wrong keys when shifting.

But – and this is the most important thing – it doesn’t matter anymore. As he stands in the practice room waiting for their turn to rehearse their stage, he catches Hansol's eyes from the other side of the room. And Seungkwan feels his heart drop. And Hansol looks away first.

And it’s all just very silly.

* * *

There's a toy called the Finger Trap.

It's a simple puzzle toy woven out of bamboo, a tube where you put your index fingers in each end. It traps your fingers, and your first instinct would be to pull; but the harder you pull away, the more it will hurt, and eventually the toy will tear if you really try hard enough.

The only way to solve it is to push your fingers into the middle, further into the trap.

Hansol tends to break his.

* * *

If you ask Seungkwan (which you shouldn't, not for things like these), there should be a statute of limitations for love. Or whatever. _Feelings_.

 _How bitter_ , is what Jeonghan would say, to which Seungkwan will reply with a _fuck you_ to. But only in his mind, because Jeonghan is nice and takes care of him and accompanies him on his long evening walks when the dorm gets too much. Jeonghan isn't a pendulum, isn't a confusing game of push and pull, isn't the person he's been in love with for. _For_?

Hm. How long has he been in love with Hansol?

"Geez, Seungkwan, they're just cats," Jeonghan cuts through his thoughts, "You don't need to glare so hard."

"I'm not glaring."

He was.

"You were."

Seungkwan ignores the remark and picks up the black cat that has been trying to get on his lap. Jeonghan, at 3 AM, somehow found a cat café to chill at, and dragged Seungkwan along with him. And so, it was decreed.

"You're thinking of Vernon?" Jeonghan muses, because no topic is too sacred at three in the morning with Yoon Jeonghan.

"So?"

The cat blinks up at him, pretty hazel eyes and a shiny black coat. It purrs as Seungkwan rubs its ears. And so, what if the cat reminds him of Chwe Hansol? So, what if he's trying hard not to send him a picture of a cat that Seungkwan is sure that he will absolutely adore? So, what if he's still thinking of him after the quite unofficial break-up of their quite official relationship?

"Well, he certainly still thinks of you, that's for sure."

"I'm not in the mood," Seungkwan winces, "for whatever hope you are trying to incite in me."

Jeonghan shrugs, an equally cunning-looking cat perched on his shoulder. They match. Seungkwan belatedly wonders why they even went to a cat café when both of them are dog people.

"I'm just saying," Jeonghan looks at him, like he knows a secret. "that a certain someone still looks at you the same way."

* * *

_I love you_.

Seungkwan said it first, because he was fifteen and he was, maybe, insane.

Isn't it interesting?

You meet this cute boy with wavy hair when you're 12, fresh from Jeju and new to Seoul, and you just think, _Oh no_. And you fall in love with him in a year. Because a year is all it takes, sometimes. And you're going to be close and he will hold your hands and give you cheek kisses and hug you from behind.

And you'll be so in love that you think you know the meaning of _forever_ when you're 15, giving half your heart and all your love. Just half, because your mother always taught you to save _something_ for yourself. All of it, because you were never the type to keep something like _love_ for yourself.

 _I love you, too_ , Hansol said back then, because maybe, just maybe, he was just as insane.

* * *

Hansol watches him tuck his hair behind his ear.

Seokmin abandoned their chess game and pulled a visiting Seungkwan over. It's awkward, and multiple times Hansol offered to leave, but Seungkwan's side of the board is white and that means it's white to move and Seungkwan wordlessly moved his King Pawn two steps ahead.

Hansol matches Seungkwan's move, moving his own King Pawn. Seungkwan bleached his hair blonde a week or so ago, just after New Year's, just before his birthday. It looks nice on him - Seungkwan looks nice with _anything_ , Hansol knows, but blonde looks extra nice on him. It looks fluffy today, non-styled, and he can clearly see the moles on Seungkwan's face, which means he just opted to wear a lip tint for today. _Peripera Vivid Tint Water,_ his mind supplies, because it doesn't know when to shut up.

"Stop looking at me like that," Seungkwan says, eyes still on the board. He moves f4. King's Gambit opening.

"Like what?"

Hansol declines the gambit, opting to move his bishop out onto c5, threatening Seungkwan's king-side knight.

"I don't know," Seungkwan sighs, muttering the next part, "Like you still love me."

Seungkwan moves his queen-side knight. C3.

Hansol bites his tongue and doesn't reply. They continue playing, Hansol's eyes still flickering to look up at Seungkwan now and then, who refuses to stare back. _Fair_ , Hansol thinks. Maybe he deserves that.

Seungkwan doesn't tell him off again, and Hansol realizes, just a little, that he can't help but memorize every little sparkle in Seungkwan's eyes. Can't help but adore the facial expressions he pulls throughout the game, his cheeky grin whenever Hansol makes a mistake. The way he thinks while his slender hand hides his lips, eyelashes on his cheeks.

Blonde looks really, _really_ good on him, Hansol decides. As if he didn't already know that from the first time Seungkwan did the hair color. But every time he looks at Seungkwan, there's this certain feeling of reinvention - a certain feeling of knowing him all over again. The privilege to revisit and remember every slope, every wrinkle. The way the light reflects off his cheeks, the way he always has a ghost of a polite smile.

It's checkmate in 18 moves, Seungkwan's Queen pinning Hansol's King next to his Rook.

"I win!" Seungkwan cheers, eyes in tiny crescents as he raises his fists up in a tiny victory pose.

Hansol can argue that he lost because he was too busy looking at Seungkwan to ever fully focus. But he doesn't, because he's too busy looking at Seungkwan to really care about it. For someone that Seokmin pushed into the chair, Seungkwan looks so _happy_ , glowing with the cute grin he always has, and there's a pride that bubbles up in Hansol, knowing that Seungkwan is _that_ happy with _him_.

 _If only you weren't stupid,_ his mind supplies, but he squashes that thought down. Now is not the time.

"Yeah, you won," Hansol laughs, the unease ebbing away from between them as he fixes the pieces on the board.

"Again?"

* * *

Jihoon's piano has ivory keys, and it's what Seungkwan uses to practice.

Over time, he started to play for fun as he learned more and more songs. Jihoon eventually gifted him a piano songbook, and Seungkwan began taking a go at Liszt pieces. He's a beginner, which means he's not good at them, but at least Jihoon doesn't leave the room when he tries to play them.

The fallboard is always up whenever he arrives. He once asked Jihoon why he keeps it open.

"It's so the keys won't turn yellow."

"How so?"

"They're ivory. They need to be exposed to sunlight."

And yet, every time, Seungkwan's hands fly up to the fallboard and close it, like a ritual. Jihoon doesn't tell him to stop, doesn't even give him a side glance. It's as if he decided long ago that this is something that Seungkwan needed.

Why would you make a fallboard if the keys are meant to be exposed in order to stay beautiful? Logically (something Seungkwan tends to be) it's so that it won't get dusty and you can stop people from randomly playing it. Illogically (something Seungkwan tends to be, _re: Hansol_ ) it's so that people can feel like they have something precious that they're keeping for themselves.

Seungkwan thinks, as an afterthought, that kissing Hansol feels as right and natural as when he closes the piano fallboard after playing.

* * *

The argument, a year ago, started with burnt eggs.

But Hansol thinks that the problem is never really about the eggs, is it? If it is - and Hansol _highly_ doubts that it is - then he could have just put the pan in the sink and cooked a new batch of eggs properly. Maybe pouted _just_ enough to get a kiss from Seungkwan.

But that wasn't what happened, and it's silly now, because Hansol doesn't even remember half of what transpired, and now he's stuck looking at Seungkwan in a light that took years to get here. And averting his gaze when he, somehow, becomes self-aware. And trying not to burn under the measured looks Wonwoo and Minghao give him.

"This is so sad," Minghao says, because he's the bad cop in this scenario. "Just go and tell him your feelings."

"I imagine it's easier said than done," says the good cop, not even looking at Hansol. "because Hansol is too emotionally constipated."

So much for being a good cop. Hansol opts to ignore them, fiddling with the stupid Rubik’s cube lying around in the practice room for no reason. There's been this itch in Hansol's mind that he's been trying to cover up with hobbies and work, but it gets worse and worse every day. Hansol supposes that it's impossible to get rid of it. Especially when said itch is singing so _damn_ well in the space of the practice room, voice mingling with Seokmin, perfect as always.

He tries not to look. He tries really, really hard, and maybe he tries too hard, because he presses on the cube harsh enough for it to pop off the socket. The red-white faceted square bounces off to Wonwoo, and Minghao looks amused.

Hansol, as always, loses the fight.

It's so, _so_ easy for his eyes to find Seungkwan.

* * *

In retrospect, maybe they both ran away.

Maybe they were both scared. Seungkwan thinks maybe they saw the opportunity to hurt and. Just _hurt_. It's funny, really, how some people just give love and want love in return but once they have it, they run away. Find ways to undo it.

Like turning an argument about the burnt eggs on a Sunday morning into an argument about intimacy and affection. Like refusing to backpedal and rethink of the words being said. Like not minding the fact that your mouth feels like cotton, and the hurt feels self-inflicted. Like learning piano because the person you love once told you that they liked a song with a piano in it. Like closing the fallboard on said piano and letting the keys rot yellow and forgetting how to play and thinking that all of this is. Just quite silly, really.

Sometimes, when Hansol is too preoccupied, Seungkwan looks at him. He likes to think that he looks at Hansol the same way Hansol looks at him. He can only ever hope that he can match the devotion in his gaze, the utter wonder and marvel that comes with it.

What's in Seungkwan that's worth that _look_? Seungkwan couldn't fully grasp it. Sometimes he thinks he never will.

* * *

Since he was a kid, Hansol loved puzzles.

He would spend hours of his time assembling jigsaws, fitting pieces with each other. When his parents started painting and doing their own art, Hansol took it upon himself to order custom-made jigsaw puzzles of their paintings just for him to assemble at the dorms.

But not all puzzles are solvable by him. And sometimes not all of them are kept intact. Hansol broke three finger traps before Wonwoo felt sorry and told him how to solve it. Seokmin still tends to beat him in chess because Hansol never takes risks.

The truth is it's scary. Hansol is blunt and he doesn't mind fixing things, but being a fixer is more of a Seungkwan thing. Facing things head-on is somehow more difficult when it's with Seungkwan.

Seungkwan's existence in Hansol's life is easy. A hand on his cold ears, a head on his shoulder, a kick underneath a table. Seungkwan melts into Hansol, as a soul, as an existence, effortlessly, like he's supposed to be there. It's so easy for him to be in Hansol's world, meeting his friends, making his sister laugh, gossiping with his mother. There is, then, a certain fear in Hansol that exists solely because of the possibility of a fallout.

You give someone your heart long enough that you forget how to be, without.

Jeonghan had a dream once, he said, where Seungkwan died. It frightened him enough that when he woke up, the first thing he did was hug Seungkwan. They found it touching, endearing, and funny all at the same time, but Hansol felt the unfamiliar worry about the possibility of loss, in different ways.

It's terrible, he thinks, to be in love.

* * *

Imagine, for a moment, that you're normal.

That you're just on the eighth floor of the dorms, cooking simple ramen for dinner. And the boy you have loved since you were thirteen is just watching you make dinner. And you pretend that your hands aren't shaking out of nervousness.

_Where is everyone?_

"They ate out and you wanted to just rest," Hansol says, eyebrows shooting up. "Are you okay?"

 _No._ "Yes."

You made enough for two. You fill your bowl, then his, and you set it on the table. The chopsticks are already neatly arranged. You sit on your chair, and him across you, and he takes his chopsticks and closes his eyes and the light is too yellow but. Like this. He is the prettiest you've ever seen, and maybe you can't ever pretend you're normal.

"Thank you for the food," He says. A prayer, but it's for you, and he's saying thanks to you.

You pick up your chopsticks. You love him. You _still_ love him. Should you tell him that? You think he knows, anyway. But _should_ you?

When you were 15, you fell in love and you thought it was going to be forever. But you turned 22 and you find it so silly, thinking that you know everything at 15 just because you love someone so much that you think they live at the top of your lungs. Maybe the love lasts forever, but a year is all it takes for something to go wrong. A year is all it takes, sometimes.

"Thank you for the food," You say, because the other half of your heart that you kept for yourself is a coward.

* * *

Seungkwan hated being helped.

He injured his foot, bad enough to have it require surgery, and he felt his world come crashing down. He bit his lips and tried not to cry, but he did, because he always does. Hansol rushed in, like it's second nature.

Hansol rushed in, again and again, like a tidal wave threatening to drown him.

He helped Seungkwan put on his slippers.

In the early morning sun, even after all the words they'd said, he went from his floor to Seungkwan's, gently knocking on his door. Seungkwan would wake up, hair in disarray, eyes laced with sleep, and Hansol would kneel on the bedside as Seungkwan swung his legs to the side, carefully dangling his feet.

"Breakfast."

"Okay."

And Hansol would be gentle. The gentlest he had ever been, thumb carefully running over the healing foot. Seungkwan's feet are tiny, but they are - somehow smaller, in Hansol's hands, held like they were things to be admired. In _Fallin' Flower_ , there was this part where Hansol tenderly glided his hand over Seungkwan's arms as he moved out of the circle, Seungkwan moving in. And there is this part, that is not really a part of the choreography, but a part of _them_ where Hansol tried to catch Seungkwan's foot as they laid on the floor.

It was an impossibly quiet and intimate moment, and in those times, Hansol struggled to talk. He stared at Seungkwan's foot, massaging it gently, fingers running over the slope and the blisters and everything.

"Why are you here?"

"I'm taking care of you."

"I don't need you to."

"You do. But even then," Hansol caressed his ankle, so lovingly that there was a twinge in their hearts that they both unknowingly shared, "I want to."

Hansol slipped the slipper on, before moving to the next foot. There was no reason for him to do it this slow, like a sacrament, but there was also no reason for him to feel like his love was about to burst any second. Seungkwan didn't pull away, and Hansol thought about their argument, and why was it so hard to fix things when you've been doing it for years now. Maybe because you're scared. Things are different when you're scared.

 _Show me you love me_ , Seungkwan's voice echoed.

 _Is this not enough?_ Hansol's voice answered back.

It was from a year ago, after the burnt eggs, after the fight over who last asked the other out for dinner, after Seungkwan turned off the stove and Hansol stormed out the kitchen.

A week after, Hansol held Seungkwan's hand and it was an _Are we okay now?_ begging to be answered with a soft tug. The answering squeeze was shaky, unsure.

Hansol put on the slipper on the other foot and looked up at Seungkwan.

_Are we okay now?_

Seungkwan looked at him, a small smile on his face. It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't unsure either, and Hansol took it. He took the small smile and the _thank you_. He took the small hand and the _thank you_. He took everything, because everything Seungkwan gave was enough.

* * *

The fight, anyway, is irrelevant.

Whatever _it_ was, it's irrelevant. So, what if Hansol burnt the eggs. It shouldn't have prompted a form of Cold War that they could only ever maneuver in a limited set of moves before it's checkmate.

But it did, so now Hansol is wondering if being scared is worth losing a Boo Seungkwan over. What are a few tiny glances, a quiet presence, a small personal reminder of love in a language only they can speak? Often, he views his life pre-12 years old as his life spent without Seungkwan. In effect, he waited for 12 years for Seungkwan. He thinks about, say, 12 years of his life spent after Seungkwan.

(But it did, so now Seungkwan is wondering if he actually accidentally gave all of his heart, instead of half. Or if both of their hearts are just cowards falling in love despite that fear. And if that already says something about them, in the first place. Idols are not allowed to be in love, only to _love_. There is a very fine difference, and Seungkwan thinks it doesn't matter. For Hansol, it's always both.)

It's funny, then, being 22, 23, and still thinking that you know forever.

* * *

[What are you scared of?]

[ _Of you_.]

[Of me?]

[ _Of you_.]

_I'm a fool who only receives,_ Hansol wrote in _All My Love_. In Korean, the title was _Barely_.

 _My heart won't change, it's only for you,_ Seungkwan wrote in _Barely_. In English, the title was _All My Love_.

* * *

_I never learned how to love_ , Hansol wrote in Life's a Beach, because it's the truth.

You don't just learn how to love Seungkwan, not at 13. Not when he didn't know anything. If anything, he had to make the manual by himself, knowing and taking in Seungkwan's entire humanity and scrawling it all on his bones, because loving Seungkwan is something he will bring with him to death. Saying _You've worked hard_ , or _Thank you always_. Things he had to learn by himself. Things he learned to call love.

Hansol wishes he could be anything, everything Seungkwan wanted. The romance, the bravery - But all he could be, and all he is, is Seungkwan's loving creature. Hansol, in all his glory.

[ _How much do you love Seungkwan?_ ] [Words can't describe my answer.] [ _What's something you can't say to Seungkwan?_ ] [I love you.] [ _Which member takes care of you the most?_ ] [Seungkwan.]

[ _What kind of person is Seungkwan?_ ] [Seungkwan loves me a lot.]

* * *

"Half-asleep and half-awake are just the same things."

"No, it's not. It's like the glass being half-full, half-empty."

Seungkwan gently rubs the highlighter on his cheekbones, fingers smeared with the incandescent _holo_ -makeup. Next to him, Seungcheol is staring, straight into the mirror. Their schedule for today is easy, but there's a lot of weight on Seungkwan's shoulders.

"When are you going to make up with Vernon?"

"Me?" Seungkwan says, eyes fluttering to look straight at Seungcheol.

"I just feel like you miss him, is all."

Seungkwan does. Of course, he does. Who wouldn't, when most of your life has been molded against the shape of another, rough edges and excess bent and smoothed out just to fill and fit?

"I may have," Seungkwan gulps, "kind of ruined things over petty concerns?"

"Nonsense," Seungcheol waves his hand. "Relationships are like that. Sometimes you fight and little things pile up and become big things. So what? Are you just going to give up like that?"

 _No_ , is always going to be the answer. Seungkwan giving up on Hansol is almost laughable, at how improbable it is; The other way around even more so. It's not like they never fought before. But it's also because they're growing older. The more you mature, the more the little things seem to be bigger than they actually are, and maybe that's one of the drawbacks when you grow old, with someone. Sometimes things you loved them for becomes things you resent. But you love them all the same.

"Hyung?"

"Yes?"

"Half-awake, half-asleep, half-full, half-empty," Seungkwan lists it off, sighing. "How do you know which is which, then?"

"Easy," Seungcheol smiles, his dimple showing. "You just choose."

* * *

"Why are we still fighting?"

Hansol is sitting next to him as he plays the piano. It's an odd, odd day. Odd day of entering the room and not seeing Jihoon. The fallboard closed. While he was in the middle of playing a random (totally not because of Hansol) warm-up song by Frank Ocean, Hansol opened the door.

It's unbearable. Not because he hates Hansol. Quite the opposite. It's because he loves Hansol too much.

"Are we still fighting?"

They _were_ , but it dissolved into a muddled confusion swept by such a shitty year. Even shittier, when Seungkwan injured his ankle and had to sit out for a long time. Much, much shittier, when the schedules kept coming and they were too preoccupied to talk.

Or maybe all those are just excuses. Maybe they could have spoken in all those times where Seungkwan met his eyes across the room during TTT. Or when they were doing the Carnival episode and Hansol quietly sat next to him for most of the time. Or maybe just talk a little bit _more_ in all those times Hansol helped him with his shoes. Or the time where him and Seokmin were DJ-ing and Hansol interviewed him during the photoshoot.

[ _Who are you the most grateful for?_ ] [Everyone.] [ _That's cliché._ ] [Then I choose Vernonie.]

"I don't know," Hansol answers honestly, "I just call it a fight if it means I'm not with you."

How endearing. _How endearing_. Seungkwan feels sick, his heart beating in his throat, threatening to spill all over and make a mess of what is left. That's right, why are they even distant. What is the reason for this space they've put between the two of them? It's silly.

"I don't know," Seungkwan anxiously presses the same piano key thrice. "Sorry. I just want you to be happy."

"Don't apologize."

Hansol sounds genuinely frustrated, like he can't piece together his thoughts. Seungkwan looks at him, and he doesn't know why he never gets used to the fact that Hansol is almost always already looking at him. He looks so honest, open, and it's been a long time since he has seen Hansol like this. They've been in a loop of a push and pull, warm then cold. Starting out at the opposite ends of the line, then they look down and the next thing they know is that they're holding each other's hands. Fingers intertwined, and you wouldn't know if it just happened at that moment, or if they've been holding hands for the last six years. And there are many more questions left to answer, but the puzzle is solved. And it’s left intact.

Hansol's hair is in a darker brown, eyes in such pretty hazels, same as he has always been. God-rays bleed through the window behind him, making him look holy and sacred. Maybe he is. To Seungkwan, he's everything.

"You wanna know something?"

"What?"

"In this light, with that expression on your face," Seungkwan's hand waves around. "You look like you're about 20."

Hansol looks at him, stares at him in the way he always does. His expression is so serious and contemplative, but this one felt like something straight out of a romantic film. If any of the others were here, they would've balked at the two of them the way they always do. But they're not, and there's a gentle and intimate silence that comes with being the only ones to exist in the moment.

"I don't want to be happy. I want to be with you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean," Hansol breathes out, "I'd rather be with you even if we get sad or angry. I don't want to be happy without you."

"Oh."

No sound is made, but there's a quiet ringing in Seungkwan's ears that makes him dizzy, Hansol's words rushing to his brain. They look at each other for what feels like ages, both of them a master of each other's wordless sentences and feelings. A way of conversation they just know by instinct.

"I think I want to kiss you."

Hansol says it like how he always does; Like it's straight from brain to mouth, something he just thought of and said without any reconsideration. Like how sometimes he'll mindlessly reach out for Seungkwan to fix his collar, or his hair. To put his hand on the small of his back. To look at him. Just look, sometimes, like right now: in the most heartbreaking way.

Heartbreaking, because Hansol looks at him sometimes, and Seungkwan thinks: _Oh no_. Exactly like he did when they first met, because. _Oh no_ , no one will ever love me like _this_ ever again. And I will never love anyone like _this_ ever again.

How, then, are you supposed to be scared when you get reminded of that?

"You have to love me to kiss me."

"You know I do."

"I want to hear it," Seungkwan insists, petulant, part of him enjoying how flushed Hansol looks. "You didn't tell me when we were playing chess."

A smile plays around Hansol's lips, the look of surrender. If this was chess, he resigns - His King piece is facedown, all his other pieces in Seungkwan's hands, and Hansol doesn't mind it, not even one bit.

"Fair."

Hansol leans over to whisper, the light flooding the room. Seungkwan's hands quietly close the fallboard.

**Author's Note:**

> \- the chess game vernon and seungkwan played is [Blackburne v Blanchard, London 1891]. The King's Gambit is a crucial move for seungkwan, because King's Gambit Opening is generally regarded as crazy and risky, and it leads to insane and enjoyable games. What hansol played is called the King's Gambit Declined - i'll leave it up to you to connect the dots on that one.
> 
> \- _"In this light, with that expression on your face," Seungkwan's hand waves around. "You look like you're about 20."_ hijacked straight from Moonstruck (1987)
> 
> \- All My Love has woozi, vernon, and seungkwan in its credits for writing. i just picked certain lines, though, and i'm not really sure which parts they actually wrote.
> 
> \- did seungkwan ever play the song for hansol? did hansol say I love you? did they kiss? seungkwan closed the fallboard. these are things that are not for us to see.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/oresthia)   
>  [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/oresthia)


End file.
